


baby, i'm the whole damn meal

by peculiar_mademoiselle



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Body Worship, Chubby John, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Shameless Smut, Sort Of, Weight Gain, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:26:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24955276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peculiar_mademoiselle/pseuds/peculiar_mademoiselle
Summary: AU set in 1965.John has gained some weight and is struggling. Paul tries to help.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 17
Kudos: 86





	baby, i'm the whole damn meal

**Author's Note:**

> This is totally self-indulgent and thus is a complete AU. No accuracy to be found here, scheduling wise etc. 
> 
> Warning, does contain some negative body talk to begin with. Just a heads up if that's triggering for you, keep yourself safe babies. <3

John sighed, shifting a little against the car seat, uncomfortably warm in the oversized dark suit jacket he was wearing. Nerves roiled in his gut, and he stared out of the window to stave off the nausea that was rising, pathetically glad that his driver hadn’t even attempted to instigate any small talk. He hadn’t seen the others for a very long time now, months actually, and the thought of doing so kind of made him want to walk off Westminster Bridge. Time off had been good, restful, but it had taken its toll on his figure. 

He’d always been slightly soft, his edges blurring while those of the others seemed to hold firm, no matter what they ate. Too often he’d felt a stab of painful envy, watching Paul or George eat something rich and sweet with abandon, without the latent wave of anxiety and shame that would no doubt wash over him. And over the last few months his indulgences had visibly caught up with his body.

His thighs felt inordinately thick, spreading where he sat, rubbing together. His trousers, new as they were, couldn’t conceal that change. Resting on them was a cushiony belly, that had grown into a decent-sized curve that fell over his waistband, obvious even when he held his breath. His face had filled out as well, cheeks becoming wider, more inclined to be rosy, his chin slightly doubled, no matter how he angled his neck. He felt exposed, naked, even as he attempted to drown himself in a baggy black suit. 

He walked into the studio like a man condemned, the urge to turn around and bolt back to the car and then the safety of his house niggling at the back of his brain, just about noticeable over the panic-induced white noise buzzing through his mind. 

The other three were already there, waiting for him. Walking in, his mouth was too dry to do anything but offer a cracked greeting, despising the way that all of their eyebrows raised, as if in sync. Ringo blinked, clearly surprised, but pretty unbothered, offering a warm smile just a few seconds later. George looked intrigued, yet like he’d rather stick his tongue in a plug socket than mention it. And Paul, Paul looked like a deer in headlights, thoroughly taken aback. John’s face burned, stripes of blotchy red appearing on his otherwise pale cheeks, remembering the last time he’d seen Paul, one of many sticky fumblings in a hotel bed, pressing open mouthed kisses to each other’s faces, like a messy touch of lips was any substitute for the words lodged in their throats. He shook off the memory and reached deep inside himself for his last reserves of bravado, desperate to just get on. 

“So, are we standing here just staring at each other all day, or what?” he asked, faux-belligerently, his right hand twitching for a cigarette, anything. The others laughed, relief evident in the sound, and just like that, the moment was broken. 

The day proceeded as normal, just like any other day in the studio. John’s appearance had gone unmentioned, something he was so grateful for it was almost sad. Although, despite the fact it hadn’t been directly discussed, it hadn’t been entirely unacknowledged. Paul had been stealing glances at him all day, John could feel his wide-eyed gaze like heat on his face, but frustratingly each time he tried to catch Paul’s eye, the other man would turn away and start pointedly doing another task. It was driving him to distraction, dancing around the subject while clearly being hung up on it was almost as bad as talking about it outright. 

At the end of the day, he was able to cheerily say goodbye to George and Ringo, an odd affection rushing through him as they left in the manner they usually would. Paul was still fiddling with his bass, doing so in such a deliberate and over the top manner that it was obvious he was only doing it to distract from the fact that they were suddenly alone. Something inside John snapped, and words welled up and spilled out of him before he could stop them. 

“Well, aren’t you going to say something? You’re clearly dying to,” he spat, the question spiky and vicious. Paul whipped round, confusion evident. 

“Say something about what?” he asked, placing his bass down, and finally, finally, looking at John head on. The older man cringed at the query. 

“About me...this,” he gritted out, clumsily gesturing at himself, hating the way that embarrassment was like a physical force on his shoulders, trying to bend him in half. 

Paul looked horrifyingly caught out, his mouth flapping uselessly. John watched, grimly amused, he’d seen that expression before, when perfectly polite Paul was being chastised for some kind of social faux-pas. John's embarrassment faded slightly, being joined by tired bitterness. 

“Look, just make your concerned comment or your fucking joke, and we can move on, yeah?” he sighed, trying to look at Paul’s face but avoid his eyes, not an easy task. 

“ _No!_ ” Paul choked out, sounding mortified, taking half a step forward before halting. John’s frustration was back with a vengeance. 

“What the fuck do you mean, _no_?” he hissed, blood boiling. Paul seemed to realise the situation was going south fast, and stepped forward, seizing both of John’s wrists. It was an assured action, and one he’d made before. 

“I mean, no, that’s not what I wanted to do at all,” Paul said beseechingly, rubbing the inside of John’s wrists with his thumbs, trying to soothe. Confusion thundered through him, and he almost wanted to recoil, but didn’t. 

“Then what-”

Before John could finish, Paul leaned in, and pressed their mouths together. Automatically, John allowed him closer, wrapping his arms around his back. Until he suddenly became conscious of the way that he was pulled flush to Paul, his soft body against Paul’s own firm one. He broke the kiss with a gasp, trying to put some space between them.

“What are you doing?” he whispered, heart hammering. 

“What I’ve wanted to do all day,” Paul replied instantly and confidently, trying to tug John back into the embrace.

“But...I’m _fat_ ,” it was pulled from him like a loose tooth, a pained confession, half self-deprecating joke, half upsetting truth. He wished he’d dressed it up as either one, but Paul knew exactly what he meant, what it meant. And so, he didn’t deny it. He only nodded, as if to say.. _and?_ It was enough to shock a huffed laugh from John. 

“You’re…” Paul’s brow furrowed, as he struggled for the words. He gently, so gently, reached out, placing his hands firmly on John’s thicker sides, kneading. “You’re...warm. You’re like home.”

The words were so sincere that John let himself lean back in, moaning as Paul deepened the kiss, gripping hard on his newly plush hips. The younger man pushed himself ever closer, trying to show exactly what he meant. John had always been beautiful, yes. But like this he was...everything. His Mum’s apple pie. His cozy bedroom at Forthlin Road. A safe harbour. Sanctuary from the storm. He wanted to drop to his knees, to lick and nibble at every inch of velvety skin, to reverently trace every curve, every bump. 

He guided John back to a chair, climbing into his lap, legs spread. John looked dumbfounded, but pleasure was disseminating through his veins like warm water, allowing him to relax in a way he hadn’t in weeks, in months even. Paul moaned quietly as he began to tug at John’s clothes, unbuttoning his shirt, roughly pulling down his trousers and underwear. The noise he let out was half worshipful sigh, half growl, and the jolt of pleasure that went through him was white hot, culminating in his groin and compelling him to yank down his own pants. 

John’s flesh was pale and creamy, and Paul pressed his hardness right up against it, groaning at the exquisite feeling. With one hand he gripped John’s side, and with the other he took John’s twitching leaking member. He kissed along John’s jaw feverishly, his teeth grazing against his blurred chin. 

He tugged at John jerkily, grinding up against his body at the same time. It was a sensation that was almost transcendental, John was _everywhere_ , and he wanted it that way. To be subsumed, to feel nothing but John forever. He felt it all the way through him when John came, spurting all over his hand, shaking violently, and it was enough to make him come too, crying out with his sticky forehead pressed against John’s shoulder, painting his stomach with his seed. 

They sat like that for a few minutes, their sweat cooling, breathing calming. John dropped a soft kiss on his temple, oddly tentative. When their eyes met, he was smiling sheepishly. 

“You don’t mind then?” he asked with a laugh.

Paul looked into his eyes and grinned cheekily, tongue between his teeth. 

“I really, really _don’t_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank-you for reading! Kudos and comments genuinely make my empty quarantined day! Title is from Juice by Lizzo. 
> 
> I wrote this because I am just...so tired of fatphobia. Being fat is okay - fat people are worthy and desirable. I feel like sometimes people need that reminder. 
> 
> If you're young and reading this like :O because you struggle with your body image please, please know that I love you, and my only advice is...don't waste your life unhappy with yourself. Believe me, it doesn't help. You are amazing as you are and don't let anyone tell you any different. x 
> 
> (Thank-you to frogchorus again for the encouragement) xxx


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